WHEN THEY SAY YOU HAVE YOUR HANDS FULL
I was at the dentist this week for the 4th time in 2 weeks and needless to say, it’s been a little crazy lately. But as I was getting the numbers for some dental/ortho work going on for our family, I joked to the dentist and said, “It’s about time I go back to work. For real.” He smiled at me as my two toddlers wrestled on the dental office floor, and said “You have your hands full. You have forever to work. Enjoy them.” I smiled like I always do when someone says to me “Wow, you have your hands full.” We payed our bill, and walked out. And I woke up this morning and had a thought. And this is how it went.
Just like every road turns and every flower has its bloom, I got to thinking about the stages of life. This has been a heavy week in our community with some beautiful lives coming to an end, at such a young age. I’ve looked at all the things that these people valued in life and regardless of how they lived their last 6 weeks or last 6 years, they shared one thing in common. A love for life and the people they loved that were in it.
I think the thing that’s so arresting about learning of someone’s passing is knowing how they lived while they were here. It’s beautiful. And that’s the biggest lesson here. For me.
When I drove off with my three kids in tow and waved bye to the dental hygienists through the window, I looked in the rearview mirror and I thought, hmmm, he’s right. I do have my hands full. And I love my hands just the way they are.
Of course my week continued to be even more bonkers when I fell ill (which I never) because I’m always caring for the sick kiddos in my house and I’m never sick. But a wrench gets thrown in the plans and I stayed in bed for a day, canceled my planned oral surgery and this is how my day went.
I did nothing.
I couldn’t do anything because I felt like shit.
I haven’t felt that way in years. And once it was time to pick up my toddlers from preschool I picked them up and parked myself back on the couch to rest.
After a sick 8 year old earlier in the week, numerous dentist/ortho appointments for her and I, a sick me, and a husband who’s been out of town and should be home soon, I realized this week might have been my toughest.
But the second I felt better, and I could squeeze my family, I realized that the fullness of my hands everyday that God granted me so kindly, is the one life I get. And I love that life.
And may it be chaotic and full, and messy and never still, it’s still a very full life. And it won’t always be this way.
I had a good cry on the interstate today and hid my tears under my oversized sunglasses. I weeped for those who have gone too soon. And I wept for the beautiful way they lived their lives. I wept for my friend I was texting at the red light who was shedding the same tears I was. And suddenly I wiped my tears, turned up some country music and me and the kiddos started singing at the top of our lungs.
And all was good again.
My hands are full till they are not. So I’m thinking we go for donuts later. K, love you bye.